An Unlikely Lady (26 page)

After checking the livery stable and finding the little gray mare missing from her stall, Jesse then checked the Two-Bit Saloon, then the newly built theater, both restaurants, the bath house, the hotel lobby, and the four other gentlemen's entertainment parlors in various stages of class.

But Honesty was nowhere to be found.

After searching every nook and cranny in
town he realized there was only one other place Honesty would have gone—the Palo Duro. Why she would possibly want to go there today after he'd promised to take her tomorrow, he couldn't figure. There was nothing to see at night, and she sure as hell wasn't going to find her brother there.

Unfortunately, Honesty's behavior didn't always follow reason.

As concerned for her safety as he was furious at her reckless disobedience, Jesse returned to the hotel to fetch his saddlebags. There was no telling how long it would take him to locate her.

The instant he opened the door to their room, he came to a sudden stop at the sight of Honesty standing near the window.

Feeling equal parts fury and relief at finding her safe, Jesse found that it took all his restraint not to slam the door, storm across the room, and paddle her backside. She didn't even notice that she was no longer alone, which made Jesse's temper rise even higher. Anyone could have come into the room, and she wouldn't even know of the danger until it was too late.

But maybe that was a good thing—maybe the little sneak should be taught a lesson.

He slipped inside the room, shut and locked the door, then moved to the corner. There, he folded his arms across his chest and watched her fight her way out of her shirt. No,
his
shirt.
Not only had she stolen off, but she'd done so in
his clothes!

By the time she finally freed herself from her cambric prison, she'd worked herself up into a mild frenzy. And Jesse's mouth had gone dry as a desert bone yard. The only light in the room came from a moonbeam shining through the window, and it caressed her bare breasts like a lover's hands, skimming the outside swells, lighting on the dark aureoles.

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth; his heartbeat echoed in his ears. God, she had beautiful breasts. Not too large, not too small. Just perfectly proportioned with her slender frame.

She tossed the shirt onto the bed, then turned her attention to the pants. For a moment Jesse wondered why she didn't light the bedside lamp, then decided he didn't care. There was something sinfully erotic about a woman undressing in the moonlight, especially when she didn't know she was being watched. She unfastened the three buttons in front, and worked the waist swiftly down her hips. With each inch of bare bottom she revealed, Jesse's mouth went drier and his pulse pounded with like a freight train charging down the line.

Haste made her clumsy, though, and Jesse almost gave away his presence by laughing when, hopping on one foot to untangle the
pants leg from her foot, she fell backward with a squeal.

A dull thud, then a mild expletive, broke the hush, and for a moment Jesse wasn't sure if it came from her or him. She shot up quickly and scrambled to her feet. It didn't take him long to realize that she was trying to hide the evidence; with the clothes she'd been wearing balled in her hands, she swiveled from one side to the other, searching the room. She tried beneath the pillow first, then shoved them under the bed. A second later, she pulled them out again and stuffed them into a corner of the wardrobe. That didn't satisfy her, either, for she removed them just as quickly.

And Jesse couldn't resist. “Throw them out the window; he'll never know.”

She shrieked and all but jumped out of her skin. Instantly she clutched the clothes to her front and searched the room. A shift in the blackness had Honesty honing in on a spot behind the door. “Jesse? Good God, you scared the life out of me!”

“I'll do more than scare the life out of you,” came his low-timbred reply. The shadows slid away from his face as he stepped out into the open, filling the room with his presence.

Never had she seen such steely determination in a man's eyes. Jesse wore it the same way
a gunslinger wore a pair of well-worn Colts, with a dangerous familiarity that at once fascinated and intimidated her.

Honesty backed up a step and lifted one hand as if it held enough power to ward him off. “This isn't what it looks like, Jesse.”

“Really? You mean you
weren't
sneaking back into this room after I explicitly told you not to leave it?”

He continued walking toward her, and Honesty continued back-stepping until the rough wall at her back left no more room for retreat.

“What was it this time, Honesty? More gold? Another sandstone formation? Or maybe another performance?”

“Did you know that your eyes change color with your mood?”

He flattened his hands on the wall on either side of her head. Anger radiated from him in scorching waves.

“Do
not
try changing the subject. I want to know where you've been, and why you felt the need to sneak out the instant my back was turned.
Again
.”

“I . . . went outside to get a breath of fresh air.”

He arched one brow. “Wearing my clothes?”

“You pointed out that this was not a place for a woman to be caught alone, so I borrowed
your trousers, hoping it might make me less noticeable. Anyway, I went out for a breath of air, and that's when I saw him.”

“Your brother again?”

“No, Roscoe Treat.”

She waited for the name to sink in before pressing on. “He must have followed us, Jesse. And you know that wherever Roscoe is, Robert isn't far behind. I tried looking for you, but when I didn't see you, my only thought was to get away before he spotted me. So I hid until it was safe to come back here.”

“Where you intended to destroy the evidence. Nice try, Honesty, but I'm not buying it.”

What! Here she was, telling him as much of the truth as she dared, and he didn't even believe her! “What are you doing in here, anyway? How did you get in here?”

His smile held no humor. “It's one of the advantages of being married. We not only share a room, but a key as well.”

“I think you had better leave.”

“Why, so you can disappear again? I don't think so.” They were now nose to nose. “I have done everything I can think of to keep you safe and still you defy me. So here's the deal: if you sneak off one more time, just
one more time,
there is no deal. All bets are off and you're on your own. I won't come after you again.”

She stared at him a moment. “You're bluffing.”

“Do I look like I'm bluffing?”

No, he looked calm and cool and dangerously collected. It frightened her. Worse, it excited her. “Maybe I like you coming after me,” she whispered.

“What?”

Honesty swallowed. “I said, maybe I like you coming after me.” No one had cared to before, except for Deuce. It made her feel important. Special. As if she really mattered to someone in this harsh, cruel world. “You're a beautiful man, Jesse. Any woman would be flattered to have your attention.”

“Is that what all this is about? Getting my attention?”

He searched her eyes, looking for an ulterior motive. A payoff. Some benefit she might be expecting to gain beyond a moment's satisfaction. But finding none, he slid his hand under the fall of her hair, cupped the back of her neck, and dragged her mouth to his. He kissed her with savage possession, giving the desires he'd held in check for so long free rein.

She whimpered into his mouth, but the hunger with which she kissed him back told him the sound didn't come from pain, but from the same need that raged through him. Her
hands reached under his arms to pull him closer; her nails bit into his shoulder blades. The press of her breasts against his front inflamed him.

He tightened his hold on her, pressed himself closer and slanted his mouth across hers, one way, then the other, tasting, pulling, demanding, sliding his tongue across hers, filling her with the taste of him.

Her nails scored a path down his back to his buttocks, and she clenched him in her hands. Of their own accord, his hips rocked against the mound of her womanhood, and pressure built in his loins. Stars danced behind his eyes. Oh, God . . . he had to have her . . . had to feel himself inside her . . .

With one hand at her nape, the other around her bare bottom, Jesse spun her around and guided her to the bed. The edge of the mattress hit the back of her knees and together they fell. He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so out of control. So on the edge. So near detonation.

Breaking the fusion of their mouths, Jesse pressed his forehead to hers and clenched his eyes shut. His breaths came in raspy gasps; his nerves felt as if they'd been strung out across desert sands. Beneath him, her heart thudded against his chest. Good God Almighty, what was she doing to him? He was supposed to
teach her a lesson on being caught unawares, not the other way around.

A bead of sweat tracked down his temple as he fought for control over his rampaging need. He slowly lowered his hand from Honesty's nape and forced himself to relax on his side, creating a bit of space between their bodies that allowed a chilly breeze to creep in from the window.

He knew what she was doing. The woman had a natural sensuality that scrambled a man's senses before he knew what hit him. Worse, he wasn't sure he had the power to fight it. And that made her more dangerous than he'd given her credit for. At any given moment, she could draw out that weapon, use it to torment, exact revenge, or simply bend a man to her will. Jesse knew the game; by God, he'd written the rules. “I won't let you do this to me, Honesty.”

“Do what?”

“Make me lose control.”

“Does it matter? We're never going to see each other again, Jesse, so why not make this night worth remembering? If you're worried about the annulment not being granted, I won't tell anyone we were together. Who's to know?”

She had a point. It wasn't as if they hadn't done this before—and she still owed him a memory.

Tired of fighting the need she roused in him,
Jesse once again covered her mouth with his own.

And Honesty came close to tears. She'd wanted this for so long—to belong to someone. To belong to
him.
She felt as if she'd been waiting her whole life for this moment, this man, and now that he was in her arms, she could scarcely contain her joy.

Needing to feel his skin beneath her hands, she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

Jesse ran his palm down her rib cage, then back up to cup her breast. He guided her nipple into his mouth. Honesty's entire body arched. She swung one leg over his hip and clutched his hair. Seeming to take her reaction as invitation, he stroked the back of her thigh. His fingertips teased the sensitive flesh near her womanhood, each time coming a little closer. Honesty's breaths came in tiny pants. Her mind began to swim. She didn't think the pleasure could get any greater.

Then his finger found the wet center of her and slipped inside. Honesty gasped.

“I can't . . .”

She didn't know what she wanted to say. She couldn't take the pressure? She couldn't bear the pleasure?
Both
, she thought, rocking against his hand in wanton abandonment. She felt herself grasping for something beyond reach, climbing higher and higher.

Suddenly Jesse's hand was gone. Honesty moaned and reached for him. “Don't leave me,” she sobbed.

“Darlin', I'm just beginning.” And then,
he
was sliding inside her. Thick. Strong. Slick. Stretching her to the point where she thought he'd surely tear her in half. Jesse moaned. Honesty bit her bottom lip and blinked back the tears forming in her eyes. Just when she didn't think she could take him any further, he withdrew.

Then he did it again. Pushing inside her, expanding her to that point of pleasure-pain, then withdrawing. Again. And again.

And Honesty no longer remembered the pain. She lifted her hips to receive him, and slowly, they fell into a glorious rhythm that opened up all her senses. She tasted the salt of his skin, smelled the wind in his hair, felt the strength of his body.

The pace picked up. His breathing grew ragged. His muscles clenched beneath her hands. And he drove into her with greedy precision that, each time, sent her to a higher plane of awareness. The skin drew tight around his cheekbones. His eyes went dark as a midnight forest.

“J . . . Jesse?” she cried softly as a dizzying pressure built inside her.

“Give it to me.”

“Jesse, I. . . . oh, God!” She dug her nails into his shoulders and arched her back as her inner muscles convulsed around him and the sky exploded into a thousand shards of light.

Her limbs shaking, her bones like water, she went limp against the mattress while Jesse lowered his shuddering body onto hers.

She had no idea how long they lay there, arms sprawled across the sheets, legs tangled, hair an intimate blend of blond and amber, when the quivering finally abated and their breathing settled to a normal rhythm. But it must have been a while, for she was growing so sleepy.

“If we were half this good the first time, it's a wonder I'm not dead,” Jesse mumbled against her breast.

“Then let's pretend this was the first time,” she murmured back, barely able to summon the strength to talk. Jesse didn't seem to have that problem, for he pulled her gloriously sated body closer, tucking her hip between his thighs, stroking her skin.

“By the way,” he murmured, “you owe me three dollars.”

She socked him in the arm.

Jesse awoke in as fine a spirits as a man could be. He curled his arms around Honesty and
snuggled closer to her. The instant reaction of his body surprised him, considering how many times they'd been intimate during the night.

Intimate, hell. They'd made love. Several times. And each time had been better than the one before it. He had no idea Honesty could be so . . . creative.